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Correct Live At The Tunnel Lyrics
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Artists: C
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Cru
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Correct Live At The Tunnel
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Lyrics:
My outlet is full of powerful niggas Electrify ya tie, spark up the lah Keep the room dark, let me fill out my high Then slap box my ghost till one of us cry Jae to the Won can niggas fuck around? And they better say nah, word to Allah They dyin' down I got iron now Run upon 'em, cock it back, tie 'em down If he try to move then I gotta lie him down From Y O a.k.a. Riot Town I used to buy it but I just supply it now Y'all used to talk but you're all quiet now You know what it is that really makes it scrape it Have a lot of cars and the lot still vacant And you won't stop speakin' till I leave you on the cement Leakin', all hot, none eatin' Slow down, son, you're kill 'em Okay, you can bring it to 'em Everyday, just like Mary J. Sippin' iced teas in the E and J Partyin', till your bare remain You're killin' 'em, okay you bring it to 'em Everyday, just like Mary J. Honeys at the bar sippin' Alaze Cru and Lox is your hair remain, I know you brailin' me, baby Yogi's in the lead, you're trailin' me, baby The PHd's can't compete mines is better than yours Then we can take it to the streets, my rum's redder than yours BX where the attic sniffy chalk outline And the clubs they shout mine, shit's about time Chad and Mighty Ha, key the predicate felon When he make bell he eat more booty than Ellen Who you tellin'? The world is mine like Esco If not, at least a house and Esgro Turnin' ghetto stars into Uncle Tom's Yogi, the mellow low key Understandin' my crew is strictly Shark Bar Champagne toastin' while you splittin' Clark Bars I'd rather be live at The Tunnel with Flex Then on the corner holdin' bundles, next Y-O's time to see the hunger in me And I see the same thing in niggas younger than me Like they live, they ain't got a slice to give In the broken down home and they priceless kids Why wouldn't it grab the gun, heist the crib And the never learn shit until twice their bid Like the world turn around funny clown money Everybody laugh when they have it What about the addict niggas that'll hustle for years Till they see the graveyard up at the tip Playin' spades, you in the world and playin' sharades If the wait jumped off you ain't touch a grenade Wanna die for the cause? Lie for the doors Niggas wanna play but never took time to pause Learned to remind and check the phat four Try to plug it in they wanna slice up the chords Yo, yo if you got the doe, B, then show me 'Cause I'm walkin' these streets and no one know me It's gon' change though, with the ill strange flow In the 9-8 push my a black Range Rove I keeps the real, separate from the fake If I kill, yo, I'm doin' so for the cake Blastin' go to a distant land See my gun's like church to a Christian man It's the code of the streets no time the explain Free that soul on up to the next plain Remember the pain, two shots from the flame Remember the bloodstains, the cold wet rain Little light guys with little white lies We takin' out cash and flippin' big white pies You rather run wild with your 9 mil. slant You watchin' too much Stallone and Van Damme Yo Lox, what the fuck, what the fuck walked in here? Where my crew at? Wave your shit in the air Now bust 'em once for the niggas who ain't with you And jam above, show muthaphuckin' love We make cake but to make cake you need batter So it ain't kickin' that shit the beat ain't gonna matter Lox and Cru, el familiar to you So if you want it you can get the 60 shot pronto Sheek that kid that spit out like tobacco Lyrically fucked out, a fit ain't chips, we ducked out Won't touch out if it ain't a 7 figure route Aye yo, Chad papa, where that cranberry and vodka Let's get flicks, spit on the niggas like this From Y-O to B-X y'all niggas straight C. S. But we count the Benjamins and collect Che-X My begets shine on my neck like I'm flex Give 'em what they want, this what they lookin' for Y-O-G, Chadio and The Mighty Ha Hit 'em in data once again with buttah hits Baby Chris ridin' with my peeps Mark Pitts Comin' with the buttahs, production Y-O-G Grab a chickenhead, lets crack the bubbly Flows by the Gods cause the styles pronto Dayes ya go, dayes ya go
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